Scraps of Humanity
by couldbedangerous-SH
Summary: In over 900 years of meddling, the Doctor has made plenty of enemies, but he's always managed to stay one step ahead of them. Now, it would seem that they've caught up with him. Now, they have a plan. Now, the Doctor is in real trouble.
1. Chapter 1

Scraps of Humanity

The room was cold and dimly lit, which suited its occupants just fine. Dark surroundings for dark deeds, was how their host had put it. Even so, some of them cast furtive glances around (others performed biometric scans) at the things sat beside them. Mortal enemies, some of them, united for now against the one common foe that had affected each and every one of them.

They were still waiting for their host's arrival, but none of them complained about his tardiness. Some of the most evil, despicable creatures on the Universe had been scared almost witless by a person that was, at this point, no more than a voice to them. But that voice had been more than enough to terrify them into quiet subservience. The Voice, and what it had described, suggested, insinuated.

"Good evening, friends." Many of the things jumped, some hissed and growled in shock and fear. He had not registered on any scans, any wavelengths. They had not seen, or heard or even smelt him enter the room. The distrust and awe quickly subsided – now was not the time to become sentimental.

"I am pleased to see that all of you responded to my invitation with such haste." They could all hear him, but still he was hidden in the shadows, too deep to be natural, at the head of the table. Those with eyes strained to see, but it was like trying to make out a ghost behind an iron screen – impossible. There were only too indicators that he was there at all; his voice, liked ice silk laced with frozen threads, and the unnerving sense of the presence of unparalleled evil. This was saying something, considering the other people in the room.

"I will firstly apologise for the secretive nature of this meeting, but, as I'm sure you can appreciate, we don't want our quarry catching wind of our plans." There were several murmurs of agreement.

"In which case, let me outline why we are all here. I understand that under any normal circumstances, we would undoubtedly be at one another's throats at this very moment, but I have not brought you her under normal circumstances. Because I have decided that it is time for us to join forces, in order to wipe out the greatest stain in this blighted Universe." Angry mutterings this time, punctuated by the occasional low growl or snarl.

He waited for them to calm down, enjoying the hatred that filled the air already, despite the fact that their foe's name hadn't even been mentioned yet. When they were silent again, he continued.

"I have studied everything we know about him, searched out and researched his weaknesses; of which, you'll be pleased to know, he has many. The most notable one, of course, being his unexplainable fondness for that miserable little speck of space dust known as Earth." More anger at this; he knew that many of them had prior failed dealings with said miserable little speck of space dust and its half-witted life forms.

Again, he waited for quiet.

"You have all been most invaluable, both for the supply of your race's knowledge concerning this matter, but also for the use of your various technologies and other . . . resources." This last part confused some of them, but for those who understood, it was like a smack in the face and they recoiled from the Voice. He had promised that what they had done would never be openly mentioned to the others. He ignored this.

"And it is for those . . . sacrifices that I thank you most gratefully. Without you, none of what I am about to show and tell you would have been even remotely possible." He paused, gathering his thoughts for the final reveal; his final part of his speech.

"We all know that we want him dead, wiped out, eradicated from existence, but the question has always been how. Many of you have tried, and _all_ of you have failed." For a moment, his voice developed a razor-like edge.

"But no matter. Because I have come up with an answer. So, friends, I ask you this. How do you kill a Time Lord?" Those that could exchanged a look, unable to imagine what he had come up with, what he had done.

"In that case, let me tell you. The only reliable way to kill a Time Lord, to make sure he won't simply regenerate and prove more of a nuisance, is with another Time Lord. It's actually quite a well-documented phenomenon. The killer absorbs the regeneration energy, thereby stopping the victim from coming back to life."

As he finished speaking, lights flickered on, illuminating a table that none of them had noticed up to that point. Even with this new source of light, the shadows around the Voice were unchanged, if anything, they seemed even darker and more malevolent than ever.

"Let me introduce you," the Voice purred triumphantly, "to Time Lord 2.0."


	2. Chapter 2

Out Of His Madness

"It's a child." A harsh voice croaked from the group of stunned – and mostly confused – collaborators.

"Not just any child. She is the perfect assassin, designed for our very specific purpose."

"I do not understand." Another voice, mechanical and tinny, said hesitantly. "There are no more Time Lords. They were all destroyed in the Last Great Time War."

"As I said, she is Time Lord 2.0. I have genetically modified her . . ."

"Which suggests that you were in possession of Time Lord DNA, which is impossible."

Normally, such interruptions would have angered him, but not now. They allowed him to look even more brilliant than he truly was; and if they had just accepted it all as pure fact, well, where would have been the fun in that?

"I acquired all the necessary Time Lord components from one source."

"But he is the last of them." The other voice continued. "Are you saying that this child is the child of the Doctor?"

At the sound of the name, furious shouts and insults were hurled around. He controlled himself, despite the fact that he worked so hard not to mention that name, for this very reason.

"He is not the last Time Lord. There was one other, trapped in the safety beyond the Time Lock. I have the necessary resources it took to track him down and use him." At this, another set of lights blinked on, spot-lighting a figure chained to the wall in a crucifix position. He was humanoid, with wild and unkempt hair and beard. His clothes were ragged tatters, and his, although closed, rolled wildly under his lids.

"Where did you find him?" An awe-struck voice whispered.

"Time and space are as nothing to me. I can have anything and everything I want brought here in a matter of seconds." The Voice spoke as if this level of power was completely normal.

"So, the child is a Time Lord, but the daughter of a psychopath." The mocking voice from earlier spoke again. Someone gestured at the hanging man. The Voice was unworried.

"I agree that it is regrettable that the Master is so mentally unstable. However, I have done everything in my considerable power to ensure that the child has no such faults. And of course, she is not entirely Time Lord."

A volley of shouts rang out.

"A hybrid?"

"Such tampering was banned by the Shadow Proclamation."

"How did you manage such a thing?"

"It's an abomination!"

He let the shock and fresh anger wash over him. He hadn't expected quite this much resentment from them, but then it could have been quite a shock. It was, of course, highly unethical to experiment with DNA in such a way. So much so, that the Shadow Proclamation had indeed created an entirely new Convention on the subject. But he had never been one for following the rules. He suddenly realised that they were waiting for him to explain himself.

"The child's genetic make-up is only 49% Time Lord." He knew he would have to tread carefully here. Metaphorically, of course. "The other 49% was donated by one of our number."

"What? Who?" He paused, worried about the reception of the truth.

"The child is 49% Dalek." The gruff, catching, metallic voice of one such monstrosity cut through the silence. "The Doctor is our greatest enemy. We care nothing for the Galactic Law, so made the necessary sacrifices to have him exterminated."

"Even if it means conflicting your perfect Dalek genes?" Someone jibed from further down the table.

"It is a small price to pay for the Doctor to be exterminated. He destroyed the Emperor Dalek and the Cult of Skaro. Even the Supreme Dalek and Davros himself could not escape him. It is our right to be his down-fall."

"That and it was the only DNA that worked." The Voice spoke quietly, and was only heard by those nearest to it. "However much they might dispute it, it would seem that Time Lords and Daleks are not that dissimilar."

Before things could descend into chaos, someone else broke through the general racket.

"That leaves 2% unaccounted for. What else have you hidden away in her?" The Voice was pleased to be back on safer ground.

"What I consider to be the most ingenious part. That tiny 2% is the most important part of her. In all the previous embryos, the cells literally tore themselves apart. It would seem that even at a cellular level, Time Lords and Daleks will fight to the death. So, we had to find something, a sort of catalyst if you like, that would prevent this cellular massacre. And by a happy, and somewhat ironic, chance I found the perfect answer. What she was lacking, was just a little scrap of humanity. So I gave her some. A tiny 2% of human DNA, binding the warring cells together. And not just any human. I presume many of you will recall a certain Rose Tyler, the female human who travelled with the Doctor."

"But she is trapped in a parallel Universe. Are you trying to tell us that you can cross even those boundaries?"

"I must say, I considered it for a while. But then I realised that the Time Radiation she must have picked up would render her DNA useless, so I simply stepped back through time, to when she was a child, before she met the Doctor, before she was corrupted, and took just enough to be useful."

"That's genius."

"I like to think so."

"So, is she ready?"

The girl's eyes opened abruptly, as if on cue. One was a golden yellow, like a mid-summer sun, the other was the colour of a wine bottle's green glass. She blinked a couple of times, and then sat up. The dress she was wearing was shapeless, thin and off-white, revealing pale arms and legs that looked far too delicate and fragile to belong to a purpose-built killer.

"She doesn't look like much." There were more muttered agreements, and it was true – sat there, shivering slightly, with her fingers playing nervously with the fabric of the dress, the girl looked unimpressive, and not in the least bit dangerous.

"We don't want her to look dangerous, that would only hinder our plans. We need the Doctor to feel sorry for her, for him to feel compelled to save her. This was never going to be a quick task, it will take time. By why shouldn't we make him suffer, as we have suffered for all this time?"

"And what about afterwards? When the Doctor is dead, what will we do with her then?"

"I'm undecided at the moment. Maybe we decommission her. Or maybe," the Voice took on that sharp edge again. "Or maybe, we release her upon the Universe, and let the devil take the hindmost."


	3. Chapter 3

A Routine Traffic Stop

"So, where did you say we were going?"

"I'm not sure. I think I've forgotten."

"You were only talking about it a minute ago." The Doctor peered at Rory through his 1930's flying goggles.

"That's as maybe, but then, seeing as how time is just a big ball of wibbley wobbly, timey wimey . . . stuff" he gestured with his hands to indicate what time looked like, "in some areas of time, I haven't even started thinking about it yet. And in others, we're already there, having a jolly old time."

"You're impossible."

"No, just very, very improbable."

"I give up."

"Good."

At that moment, Amy walked into the control room.

"Are you two still arguing?"

"No."

"Yes." The two men frowned at each other, but before either of them could speak again, green sparks leapt from the console, and an unfortunately high-pitched buzzing sound started. Amy clasped her hands over her ears.

"What the hell is that?"

"Ah." The Doctor danced around the console, flicking switches, pulling levers and knocking over a pile of books which had, up until that point, being perfectly happy balancing precariously on the side of the controls.

"What do you mean 'ah'?" Rory bent down to pick up the books which were now floundering helplessly on the floor.

As if in answer to his question, a suspiciously familiar siren started, and the screen lit up, showing a rather harassed-looking blue man in a pointy hat. Part of Rory suddenly wondered if the Elves from the Lord of the Rings were in fact real – and living in outer space. Stranger things had happened.

"You have entered an area of Restricted Space. Pull over and disengage all engines. This is the police."

"Space police?" Amy mouthed at Rory, who shrugged. Blue space police Elves, he thought to himself. What would Tolkien say? Probably something in Elfish, no doubt. And what next? Hobbits acting as barristers? Gollum in the ambulance service? People simply walking into Mordor? He shook his head. The idea was folly.

"I could have sworn that the speed limit here was three light-years an hour." The Doctor muttered to himself as he complied with the police man's orders.

"Why do they have the same sirens as the police cars on Earth?"

"Because, Rory," said the Doctor in the tone that teachers use with particularly dim children, "it is the Universal standard. That way, everyone everywhere knows when the police are coming. They do like to make an entrance."

"I thought you said the Judoon were the space police."

"These must be special branch."

"Doing traffic stops? Are you sure they're not after you for anything?" Amy asked, only half joking.

"Please transmit all your paper work and other documents." The police man on the screen looked slightly annoyed at being ignored. "Including a valid inter-galactic pilot's licence."

"Ah," the Doctor said again. Amy turned to him.

"Please tell me you have a licence." The Doctor, to his credit, did manage to look sheepish.

"I did have one, once . . ." He trailed off under her withering glare.

"Look, I can hear everything you're saying." The police man had his arms crossed now. "And if you are driving without a valid licence, then I'm going to have to escort you to the nearest area of police jurisdiction."

Reluctantly, the Doctor followed the police ship's energy readout, desperately trying to think of an excuse which would cover every misdemeanour they would surely drag up. Somehow he felt that 'sorry' wasn't going to be quite enough.


	4. Chapter 4

Dr Rouge

"This doesn't look much like a police station to me." Rory gazed around the brightly lit reception space.

"That's because it isn't." The man behind the desk tapped away furiously at his computer keyboard as he talked.

"Oh? So what is it then?" Amy leant against the desk nonchalantly.

"Prison Planet X." He looked up and saw the raised eyebrows on their faces. "Yes, I know, but I didn't name it, did I?" He went back to his typing for a moment, before seemingly realising that he hadn't actually answered the question. He sighed.

"Prison Planet X is the largest maximum security jail in the Universe. We only have the very worst of the worst in here."

"Nice. So why were we brought here?"

"I would imagine that it has something to do with your friend." He gestured towards the Doctor, who was in a heated discussion with someone further down the desk. "But don't ask me what he's done. Nobody tells me anything."

At that moment, the Doctor ended the argument, and walked over to them.

"All sorted," he said, with an easy grin, "just a misunderstanding, as it turned out." The man behind the desk raised his eyebrows, but never looked up from the keyboard.

"So we can leave?"

"Well, no. Not just yet at any rate."

"Why?"

"When they heard that I was a doctor, they asked me to have a look at one of the inmates."

"'A' doctor? What happened to the 'the'?" The Doctor put his finger to his lips to silence them, before pointing to a hologram 'WANTED' poster on the wall. It showed a tall, serious-looking, dark-eyed man with wild, unkempt hair, wearing a blue, pin-striped suit and a long brown coat. Beneath it flashed the words, "The Doctor".

Amy frowned.

"He looks nothing like you."

"Yeah, well, it's a long story. I'll tell you one day. But while we're here, I'm Dr John Smith. Remember that."

A door opened further down the room, and a woman stepped into view. She was tall and dark skinned, with hair that fell in neat waves around her face, and set off her luminous lilac eyes. Her grey suit was covered by a white coat that flapped open as she walked over towards them and extended a hand.

"You must be Dr Smith," she took hold of Rory's hand and shook it. He opened and closed his mouth, but no words came out.

"Actually, I'm Dr Smith," the Doctor interjected, looking slightly put out.

"Oh." The woman looked him up and down unbelievingly. "It's just that you don't look much like a doctor. Or any kind of health professional for that matter."

"And you can tell that just by looking at someone, can you?" Amy was sceptical. The woman's voice was cool.

"I should hope so, seeing as how reading people is my job." She turned her attention back to the Doctor and so missed the roll of Amy's eyes.

"I'm Dr Rouge. Head of the psych-evaluation team here at PPX. I heard you're here to help us out."

"Rouge. Good name for someone who works in a prison." The woman ignored Amy's jibe.

"I hope you're as good as you're papers suggest, Dr Smith. She's a bit of an enigma to us all. Your opinion will no doubt be invaluable." With that, she turned on her heel and walked away, back through the door. Amy and Rory shared a look as the three of them followed her.

"Papers?" Amy whispered to the Doctor.

"Psychic paper. Although . . ." he glanced around at her, and for a couple of seconds, faint lines of worry touching the edges of his eyes. "People trained in psychic evaluation can normally see through it."

"So, she's either not very good; or she is, and this is all a very elaborate trap."

"Most likely, yes."

"Excellent."


	5. Chapter 5

Inmate 616

"So, who is this inmate you need so much help with?" The four of them were packed into a tiny 'staff only' elevator, much like sardines in a tin, only still alive, and without the sunflower oil.

"Inmate 616." Dr Rouge saw the expressions on their faces. "Yes, I know. But we use a numbering system, so it was always going to happen. Inmate 666 is actually quite a nice bloke called Kevin." She realised that she had gone off on a tangent, coughed, and started again.

"Inmate 616 is one of the most difficult I've ever come across. That's not to say that she's particularly bad, just . . ." She tried to find a suitable word. When none came, she left the sentence hanging. "We've all tried, but none of us can get through to her. She'll only answer the most basic of questions, never initiates a conversation with us, and spends most of the time that we're with her silent and staring."

"What did she do?" The Doctor frowned slightly.

"That's classified information, I'm afraid."

"Of what, I wonder." The Doctor spoke under his breath, and no one heard him.

Rory frowned too, thinking.

"But to be here, surely she must have done something terrible. Why are you so bothered about helping her?" Dr Rouge sighed and rubbed her eyes, smudging her eye-shadow.

"I think you'll understand when you meet her."

The lift pinged to announce their arrival to their desired floor. The doors slid open, and they stepped out gratefully into a long white corridor. No sooner had Rory stepped out of the lift, then the doors slid closed again, and a sheet of metal hissed down, sealing them off from retreat. He shot a look at Amy, who returned it with a slight shrug.

Dr Rouge's fore-head creased, as she saw some sort of commotion further down the corridor. The Doctor had seen it too.

"That can't be good." He'd barely spoken, before she was striding away.

The closer they got, the more they could see. Five burley men, all dressed in dark combat gear, all carrying guns, were crowded around a single doorway. They had passed several other similar entranceways, but the rooms behind were dark and empty.

"Head Guard, what is going on here?" But before anyone could answer, they saw into the room for themselves. Amy let out a stifled gasp at what she saw.

Kneeling in the centre of a blank, bare, featureless room was a girl, her head bowed and her eyes closed. She was dressed in a white tee-shirt and trousers, and wrapped around her wrists were two thick strands of pulsing, spitting blue light, the end of which were emanating from brushed steel posts in the walls.

"Good god man, turn those things off!" Dr Rouge tried to push her way into the room, but one of the men stopped her.

"Can't let you in. Board's orders." She pushed his arm away, a look of fury on her face.

"Who authorised the use of Depletors?"

"The Board did. And I am here to carry out their wishes. State your own purpose here, and then leave. This inmate is out of bounds."

"I'm Dr Rouge, here to examine her. These are my colleagues. And I am telling you to turn those things off."

"I don't take my orders from doctors." The man growled, matching Rouge's livid stare.

There was a quiet, high-pitched whine, and the light strands disappeared into nothingness. Amy turned her head slightly, and saw the Doctor putting his sonic screwdriver back into his jacket pocket.

"Inmate 616 is free! Inmate 616 is free!" The guard that had stopped Dr Rouge raised his gun, as one of the other men shouted.

"Lethal force has been authorised by the Board. Shoot to kill."

"NO!" The Doctor, Amy, Rory and Dr Rouge shouted in unison, but too late. Every man brought up his gun and fired, sending five energy pulses into the still motionless girl's chest. The tiny form was flung backwards across the room, hitting the far with a sickening crunch, before sliding down it and lying in a crumpled heap on the floor.

Amy put her hand to her mouth, Rory turned white, and both doctors ran into the room. The Head Guard remained outside, a smug smile etched onto his features. The Doctor knelt down at her side, and Dr Rouge felt for a pulse. When she found none, she stood up, eyes blazing, ready to lay into the men. Then, the girl gave an almighty gasp, a pale golden light entwined about her body, and her eyes snapped open. She blinked, fear crossing her face when she saw the Doctor, and tried to wriggle away.

"Sentinels, restrain legs." Blue light shot from the posts again, this time wrapping around the girl's legs. She whimpered slightly, but stayed still, watching them all, with the untrusting eyes of a beaten puppy.

"That's impossible." The Doctor murmured beside her. The gaze of her yellow and green eyes flickered over to him, but she remained silent, reproachful, untrusting.

"Sentinels, remove restraints." Dr Rouge barked the command, and the blue light faded again. The girl leant forward, as if to rub them, but then froze again, as if suddenly realising that there were still people there.

"Rory, come have a look at her, will you." The Doctor spoke softly, as a person would around a spooked animal, as he stood up and turned to face Dr Rouge.

"What are Depletors?" She scowled, as if the very word disgusted her.

"A new system; we haven't had them very long." Her face clouded, as if some important detail was being held just out of her reach. The Sentinel posts drain the very life energy out of their targets, and convert it into those restraints. If you leave someone hooked up to those things for too long, it can kill them."

"And we wouldn't want that now, would we?" The Head Guard sneered, who had stepped into the room. Seeing him, the girl again tried to retreat, despite Rory's best efforts.

"Head Guard," Dr Rouge's voice had become cold and dangerous, "I think you and your men can leave now. We have this situation perfectly under control." The man looked as if he was going to argue the point further, when suddenly, his face turned pale, and he stumbled forward, clutching at the wall to steady himself. Someone rushed to help him from the room, and the rest of the men followed suit, some apparently gratefully.

As they disappeared, the girl visibly relaxed. In was only now that Amy got a good look at her. She was thin – unnaturally so, with dark hair cut in a boyish style, revealing high cheekbones and a sweeping jaw line. But it was those eyes, set into the porcelain mask of her face, that were the most striking part of her appearance. One was golden, one was deep, dark green, and both were fixed on the Doctor.

"Are you okay?" Dr Rouge tried to sound caring, but the residual anger in her voice made the comment sound forced and fake. Those eyes flickered to the woman for a second, and the girl, after a second, nodded. Dr Rouge sighed.

"All that hard work, no doubt gone up in smoke. Those meat-heads refuse to understand that these are people too. They might be bad, but they're not all monsters. We should still try to listen."

Amy crouched down in front of the girl.

"She's just a kid. What's your name?"

"No one knows." Dr Rouge shrugged. "Or if they have, nobody's told me."

"I don't have a name." The girl's voice was so quiet, that if Amy hadn't seen her lips moved, she might have thought that she had imagined it. "It was the first thing the Board said to me when I got here. 'You have no name. You have no past, you have no future. You are nothing.' Quite the way to destroy someone's self-confidence."

"Nonsense." The Doctor grinned happily. "Everyone has a name." He gestured at Amy and Rory in turn. "These are the Ponds; Amy and Rory Pond. And I'm Dr John Smith." He kept up the pretence in front of Dr Rouge. A half smile flickered over the girl's face, but then vanished, like smoke against a grey sky.

"You're a liar."

"What?" The Doctor was taken aback.

"That's not your name. You're lying. I can see it on your face, in your eyes. And I can see what you think of me there too." They held each other's gaze, on eye level to each other. She tilted her head very slightly. "You're very quick to judge, aren't you, Doctor?" It was the Doctor who broke the silence that descended.

"Okay, you got me. But it's the name I go by."

"So you don't mind if I call you Doctor?"

"Not at all. In fact, go ahead. Knock yourself out." She smiled again, for longer this time, as if she knew something they didn't, and she was enjoying the dramatic irony of it all.

"Fascinating. Just fascinating," murmured Dr Rouge, who was scribbling notes down on an electronic pad. "She's accepted you almost immediately." Amy could have sworn that she saw the girl roll her eyes, but she couldn't be sure.

Suddenly, there was a loud, buzzing, claxon sound. Thinking that something had gone horribly, terribly wrong, Rory was suddenly back at Amy's side. Dr Rouge looked up and saw them.

"Don't worry. It's just the signal that the cells are open." Seeing their confusion, she tucked the pad back into her jacket pocket.

"We've found that letting the inmates intermingle for several hours a day has cut down on disobedience and bad behaviour here on PPX. It's perfectly safe, because of the armed guards and such."

"I could show you around, if you like." The girl said nervously, twisting the hem of her tee-shirt between her fingers. Dr Rouge frowned.

"I'm not sure that's such a good idea. Really, I should take you to the medical wing."

"But he's a doctor." The Doctor nodded sagely. "I would imagine that he can help me if I feel ill." Dr Rouge opened her mouth, as of to continue her argument, but then her eyes glazed over for a second, and she seemed to forget what she was going to say.

"Well, okay then. Just don't get into any trouble."


End file.
